An analyst's portrayal of the subjective phases of two egoists' married life. The sea change that gave their life the shimmer of something rich and strange as two souls struggled and fluttered after the immaterial is followed by a transformation caused by the failure to give fresh, wholesome, material expression to their ideals, leaving a "decomposing discolored shell" wholly at the mercy of the peace of dulness.
r on the spot.
On the other hand, where would he be if--if--supposing that she ever found him out?
A thousand to one against it. He who aims high must take high risks. He took them.
"Yes," he said, "it's Virgil." And he added, to clinch the matter, "From the 'Georgics.'"
The light in her believing eyes told him how inspired he had been.
The more he thought of it the more likely it seemed. A flash of reminiscence from his school-days visited him; he remembered that Virgil did write some things called "Georgics," and that Georgics were a kind of pastoral, and that pastorals always had sheep in them, and shepherds. It was a good risk, anyhow, and he could see that it was justified by success. When his conscience reproached him for pretending he knew more Latin than he did, he told it that he would soon know heaps. If all by himself, in cold blood, and for no particular reason, he could keep slogging away at a difficult language evening after evening, what couldn't he do with Ag